


Adam and Nigel Double Date

by TaeAelin



Series: Adam and Nigel [4]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Affection, Banter, Bucharest, Fluff, Hannigram - Freeform, Hannigram crossover, M/M, Spacedogs, Spacedogs Appreciation Week, True Love, and a lot of cursing, holiday tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaeAelin/pseuds/TaeAelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Valentine’s Day. It’s Adam. Of course Nigel’s going to make it fucking romantic.</p>
<p>What he doesn’t count on, is Hannibal and Will turning up at the exact same fucking restaurant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adam and Nigel Double Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TigerPrawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerPrawn/gifts).



Nigel stepped onto the sidewalk. A slight smudge of grease still marked his hand where he had thrown a hot saucepan to the floor. Other than that, he looked and felt much like he did when he entered the restaurant. It was just business. Another point made, another favour granted, and everybody knew exactly where they stood by the time he was done.

Well, except perhaps for Darko. From the vibrant splatter of Napolitana over his crisp white shirt and Versace suit jacket, Darko might have done better to stand… a little further to the left. And his glare said as much. Nigel rolled his eyes.

“I said I was fucking sorry. How the fuck was I supposed to know you were going to move? Should have stayed fucking put.”

With a tidy flick of his finger, Darko removed the solitary sliced tomato making its way down his collar. “Yes,” he hissed, “and I will send you my wholehearted forgiveness along with my fucking laundry bill, asshole.”

Nigel smirked, holding his hands up in regret. “Something to look forward to.”

Thumbing a fresh pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he snagged the plastic seal open with his teeth, doing the courtesy of offering them in Darko’s general direction first. That was more than enough fucking apologising for one night.

Chuckling, Darko seemed to think so too, pinching one of Nigel’s smokes between his lips. He shrugged the soaked jacket from his shoulders, throwing it in the nearest dumpster. “Make that my tailoring bill. And you’re sure as hell about to tell me what that shakedown was for in the first place, and why we couldn’t send one of the boys to do it.”

Exhale leaking white into the air, Nigel slouched a hand into his pocket. “Wasn’t a job for the boys,” he muttered, tobacco burning raw at his throat. “It was personal.”

“You don’t do personal,” Darko snapped.

“I had a… debt to settle.”

“Debts are messy.” Darko’s mouth curved to a thin smile. “That was clean as they come.”

“He was running his fucking mouth, alright?”

“He was _shitscared_ ,” Darko grinned, more intrigued by the second, “How the fuck does a three-hatted chef, who’d clearly never seen two assholes like us in his fucking life, who makes a living arranging tiny fucking carrots and flowers on a plate, get to running his mouth, hm?”

“Fucking Christ Darko!” Nigel spat the words toward the curb. “Look-”

Darko raised an eyebrow, deeming the conversation worth a pause in the middle of the street.

“He… wouldn’t give me a reservation. For Adam. For dinner.” Nigel sucked at his cigarette like it was his last breath. “For…”

Darko crossed his arms, thoroughly engaged.

“…Valentine’s Day.”

Darko stared. Nigel glowered. Darko took a slow inhale.

“Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes, fuckhead, fucking Valentine’s Day!” Nigel exploded, wishing in hindsight he had just taken care of the matter himself. Less fucking fanfare, less fucking fallout.

Darko chased a knuckle to his jawline. Whether he was wiping away some remaining sauce splatter, or trying to camouflage any highly ill-advised amusement, Nigel couldn’t quite tell.

“Forget the new suit,” Darko managed, his eyes creasing tellingly at the corners. “It was worth it.”

-

In truth, to see Adam’s face light up the way it did when Nigel told him where they were going, Nigel would have bought Darko a whole fucking closet of goddamn suits.

There weren’t many restaurants where Adam felt comfortable. There had to be a certain spaciousness to them, a certain neatness, a certain brightness; plus a healthy lack of crowds. The kind of place you had to comb your hair for. The kind of place you had to know which fork to use. Exactly the sort of place Nigel fucking hated.

But it was Adam. It was Valentine’s Day. They were doing something special if it damn near killed him. And, when Adam walked out of the bedroom in his charcoal suit, sky blue shirt matching those wide, watery eyes… it nearly fucking did.

“Adam,” the word nearly caught in Nigel’s throat, low and husky, purring warmth. “You look… you’re… fucking gorgeous, darling.”

Adam’s cheeks blushed pink with pleasure, and Nigel held out both arms for him, nuzzling his mouth against the smaller man’s curls as Adam tucked into his chest.

“I like your outfit too,” Adam smiled, patting Nigel’s stiff dinner jacket with interest. Nigel chuckled, no more than a growl.

“Can barely move my fucking arms, but it’ll do.”

Adam’s eyebrows twitched with concern. “Nigel, there isn’t actually an enforced dress code, you know. I completely don’t mind if you want to take it-”

Nigel silenced him with a kiss, rough hands gently cupping Adam’s cheeks, thumb stroking the smile back in place.

“I’m fine sweetheart. No, more than fine. I…”

Adam interrupted him with a kiss in return, delicate fingertips running the length of his back, slipping round his waist, pulling him deeper against their embrace-

“I’m going to be way too fucking fine, way too fucking quickly, if you don’t stop kissing me like that.”

Catching his breath, Nigel wasn’t sure he was grateful the cab driver chose that exact moment to sound the horn, buzz his cell phone and yell from the window all at the same time. Then again, Nigel doubted they’d have made it to the restaurant on time if he hadn’t.

Glancing at Adam’s coy smile though... a smile that was very quickly tracing downward, along with his hands…

Nigel switched the phone to silent. They’d just have to drive that much faster instead.

-

By the time they were seated at the Chef’s table, water glasses poured, menus and wine lists at the ready, Nigel’s heartbeat had almost returned to normal.

Almost.

“Gosh, Ni-Ni, this place is beautiful. And spacious! It looks far larger in person than what the floor plan would suggest.”

Trust Adam to look up the fucking floor plan.

“I’m glad you like it, baby.”

Nigel threw a meaningful glare toward the string quartet, who commenced playing immediately. The Head Chef had already explained to him that live symphonies were not a feature of the restaurant. Nigel’s explanation that on this night, they were, seemed to have won out.

A tuxedoed waiter approached their table, hands folded at his sash. Nigel couldn’t help wonder if his gaze lingered on Adam a little longer than was necessary. Swallowing, he forced himself to calm the fuck down. Customer service staff were supposed to be attentive.

“May I read you the specials, gentlemen?”

“No.” Adam smiled, pleasant. “I already looked up the menu and specials at home. May I please order the Baked Rigatoni Gorgonzola, with a side of steamed garden vegetables?”

“Certainly, sir. A splendid choice, and a personal favourite of my own. And for your entrée, sir?”

Nigel frowned. There it was again, that seeping graciousness that crawled right under his skin. And now the waiter was unfolding Adam’s napkin for him, placing it down over his lap. Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Nothing, thank you.” Adam nodded again, the words coming out formal and rehearsed. “Just the main for me, please.”

Without so much as a glance at the menu set in front of him, Nigel handed it back. “I’ll have the same.”

“Wonderful, sir.”

Snatching his own napkin, Nigel gave it a brusque flourish, setting it firmly out of the waiter’s reach. With a movement Nigel could only compare to some sort of ridiculous bow, the man backed away toward the kitchens.

Stretching his shoulders against the brace of the dinner jacket, Nigel wondered if the restaurant allowed smoking. The lack of ashtrays and entirely pleasant air to the space gave him his answer before he could get his hopes up. Probably just as well.

Focusing his attention on Adam instead, the urge faded under the delight reflected back at him, Adam’s mouth dropping slightly ajar as the string quartet rounded to one of his most loved arrangements. Forcibly unclenching his jaw, Nigel tried to relax against the back of his seat. So what if he wasn’t used to fine dining. He wasn’t there to pay attention to anything but Adam. It was just him, Adam, and…

_Darko._

Seeing his business partner seated at the opposite side of the room, Nigel sat suddenly forward, violently bumping the table in the process. _What in the name of fucking fuck-_

“Are you okay, Ni?” Adam was looking at him in concern, hands quickly gripping the side of the table to steady it.

“Definitely, darling. Absolutely. Please excuse me a second.”

Standing rather abruptly, Nigel leant down to kiss him on the cheek, waiting till Adam’s attention was diverted back to the musicians before striding across the restaurant with murderous intent.

Finding Darko casually buttering his bread roll, Nigel wrenched out the chair opposite.

“This better be fucking good. You fucking knew I was bringing Adam here for dinner tonight.”

Rolling his eyes, Darko took a large bite of the bread, gesturing to the basket on the table in case Nigel should feel inclined. “Which is precisely why I didn’t bother you about it. Meeting a new client. Not the stuff of grand romantic gestures.”

As Darko’s words simmered to a smirk, Nigel was just about ready to use the rest of the rolls as a makeshift gag. “Since when do we wine and dine the fucking scumbags we trade with?”

Darko shrugged, making a show of leaning forward and lowering his voice. “It’s more of a one-off transaction. And,” Darko made an offhand gesture toward the kitchen, “I heard they do a fantastic Napolitana here.”

With a hiss of muttered curses, Nigel pulled himself to his feet, making damn sure Darko knew what would happen if any of the evening’s business should interfere with Adam. On-route back to his original table, he made an impulsive detour into the men’s room, thumbing a smoke to his lips with scant remorse. Fucking health regulations. Fucking waiters. Fucking Darko. Fucking-

“Adam!”

The cigarette dropped from his mouth, Nigel stamping it under his foot like some sort of wild snake. He looked at his partner in surprise.

“Why have you… gotten changed?”

Instead of the sky blue shirt, Adam was now wearing one of deepest maroon, his charcoal suit exchanged for finely-pressed black. He reached a hand to Nigel’s wrist, reassuring.

“Nigel. It’s me, Will.”

Nigel blinked.

“Adam’s cousin. We met at-”

“-the Christmas dinner from hell. Yes. Apologies.” Glancing around for some other reason to be in the bathroom, Nigel very much wished he’d had the forethought to buy some nicotine patches. “I… didn’t realise you were in Bucharest, Will. Are you… enjoying your visit?”

Last he remembered, Adam had said his cousin was one of Interpol’s Most Wanted, and also the run with his highly gifted psychopathic husband. But even Nigel knew that didn’t make for appropriate bathroom chit-chat, three hatted restaurant or not.

“Honestly, I could get used to it.” Will took a slow inhale, eyes darkening where Nigel couldn’t follow. “It’s one of those places that you feel like you’ve known forever.”

Nigel tried to make his frown look slightly less severe, slightly more… comprehending. Will shook his head, quickly breaking the silence with a smile. His hand returned to Nigel’s arm, almost brotherly.

“Anyway. Nice to see you, Nigel. Please pass my regards to Adam.”

Nigel had hardly opened his mouth before the man had stalked from the room, the door swinging softly in his wake. Fingers itching against the pack of smokes in his back pocket, Nigel settled on splashing some water on his face instead. That would have to do.

Pushing between the tables, Nigel sat back down in front of his Baked Rigatoni Gorgonzola with an apologetic grimace.

“Ni-Ni, are you not feeling well?” Adam used his lowest of whispers, full of concern. “You were in the bathroom a very long time you know.”

Adam hadn’t started without him, though he had repositioned his napkin from his lap to the front of his shirt. Easing to crooked smile, Nigel couldn’t help decide Adam was probably the only person who could make that look fucking sexy.

“…I’m alright.” Nigel cleared his throat. “Sweetheart, remember that time you introduced me to-” Nigel stopped, inhale strangling in his windpipe as he tried not to spontaneously combust. Instead of some anonymous client joining Darko at his table, Nigel very clearly saw the same familiar face he had just encountered in the bathroom. “- _your cousin!_ ”

Not quite sure what the forceful inflection at the end of Nigel’s statement implied, Adam quickly poured out another glass of iced water, sliding it encouragingly close to Nigel’s hand.

“Of course I remember, Nigel. Cousin Will.” Adam wondered how he might go about asking Nigel if he wanted to try some slower breaths.

Taking a rather large gulp of the water, Nigel brushed the back of his hand across his mouth, eyes narrowing. “Pardon me, baby. Back in a tic.”

He had stormed out of sight before Adam could untangle another word. Deciding on a more practical approach, Adam took out his phone, noting a list of items they’d probably need to pick up from the chemist on the way home, as well as some more toilet paper. Staring blankly in the direction of the bathrooms, he glanced at the list again, then methodically added “x2” at the end.

Nigel, meanwhile, was busy accidentally dislodging some inconveniently placed pot plants on-route to Darko’s table. His mood hardly got any better when Will rose from his seat to assist, scooping up decorative pebbles from the hardwood floor like it was exactly how he expected to spend his evening. Darko merely crossed his arms, his face dangerously close to a grin.

“Shall I ask the waiters to join our two tables? I daresay it would save you the back-and-forth.”

“Tell me you don’t fucking know who that is,” Nigel hissed, jabbing a finger to Will’s back.

Darko clicked his tongue, eyes creasing at the corners. “Well, asshole, this may come as a surprise to you,” he gave a sly wink, about as affectionate as Darko got, “but yes, on occasion, I do fucking find out who I’m fucking meeting with, _before_ I fucking meet them.”

Will gave a friendly cough, brushing the last of the soil from his palms like he had seen and done far worse on a date. Sitting back down next to Darko, he seemed entirely at ease with the turn of events. “I take it you two know each other. What a small world, hey?”

Nigel relented to breaking eye contact, Will’s pupils seeming to dig right inside him. Will took another breath.

“Just to clear the air, I’m not Darko’s client. That would be my partner.” Will threw a friendly grin toward the menus. “I’m just tagging along for the good wine and great dessert.”

“-and even better company.”

At the second voice, low and accented, Nigel snapped his head around. He hadn’t noticed anyone else entering the restaurant, let alone stand right next to him. Staring up at the newcomer, Nigel felt his pulse strangle in his throat.

“Ah,” the corners of Will’s mouth turned up at the edges, “here he is.”

Nigel spluttered, blinked, and then coughed again, trying to form his shock into audible syllables.

It didn’t work.

-

At Hannibal’s request, the two tables were brought together after all.

Having already finished his pasta, Adam looked like his birthday and Christmas had come at once, beaming from Will to Nigel to Hannibal and back. Nigel’s own pasta sat cold in front of him. He made short work of the wine though.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you both more of a heads-up,” Will sighed, a nod toward Adam’s shoulder. “Even we weren’t sure when we would be getting in. Things are a bit uncertain right now, what with us being…”

Will veered a glance to his partner across the table. Hannibal was speaking Lithuanian to Darko. Nigel couldn’t understand a fucking word.

“…on the run.” Adam finished, solemn.

Will gave a soft laugh. “Yes.” With a tender smile to Hannibal, he poured Adam another lemonade. “But this transaction should smooth things out a bit. In Eastern Europe at least.”

Adam looked pleased for the fact, raising his soda to the brim of Will’s merlot. Noticing, Hannibal paused his conversation, joining his glass to the centre. Darko humoured them with his vodka. Nigel scowled at the lot of them.

“To special occasions,” Hannibal offered, his voice curling warm toward Adam and Nigel. “And extended family.”

“Extended family,” Adam repeated, bright enough that Nigel felt instantly guilty. So he ended up sharing Valentine’s Day with a notorious cannibalising couple. Adam was happy. Hadn’t that been his plan all along?

Deciding to make better company of himself, Nigel sucked a breath, fixing Hannibal with what he had been told was his amicable face. If it was anything like the one he was receiving in return, Nigel guessed it still needed some work.

The waiter interrupted the stare, placing some miniature chocolate artworks between them. “May I tempt you with a complimentary dessert tasting board, gentlemen?”

This time Nigel knew he wasn’t imaging things. The guy was _definitely_ looking Adam up and down. And, from the sly flicker at his lips, fucking enjoyed what he saw.

“Ah, unfortunately not for myself.” Hannibal offered Adam a sincere dip of his head. “We have imposed on your evening too much already, I’m afraid. And, with business taken care of,” a courteous glance to Darko, already halfway out the fire exit with an envelope in hand, “we must be heading off.”

Whilst Hannibal gently stood to his feet, Will took the opportunity to pop two of the desserts into his mouth, a wink and a thumbs-up indicating were everything he had hoped they would be.

“Wouldn't mind heading outside myself,” Nigel muttered, irritated. “To teach that waiter some fucking manners.”

The words had no sooner left his mouth before Nigel found himself inwardly cursing, raising a hand in apology. This wasn’t the fucking schoolyard.

Strangely, Hannibal’s interest seemed to pique at Nigel’s turn of phrase. He looked like he had half a mind to sit right back down again, before Will took him by the arm, the gesture as firm as it was fond.

“Well, it was so, _so_ lovely seeing you both. But _as Hannibal said,_ we’ll have to call it a night.”

Exchanging a brief hug with his cousin, Will looked more and more like he was ready to drag Hannibal from the restaurant with no small degree of determination.

Nigel cleared his throat, then slowly offered Hannibal his hand. “Good luck.”

Under the restaurant lowlights, Hannibal’s eyes glinted oddly carmine back, unblinking. And then he took it.

“Take care, Nigel. Perhaps our paths will cross again one day.”

As they disappeared between the tables and out into the night, Nigel couldn’t decide whether he found such an idea pleasing, or utterly insane. He suspected more of the latter. And liked it nonetheless.

 “Well.” Nigel took Adam’s palm, pressing it to his lips without a second thought to who was watching. “All the more dessert for us, hm?”

Adam was simply gazing up at him, those wide, watery eyes making his chest ache and sing all at once. The night had been special.

With Adam, it always was.

“I love you, Nigel.” Adam reached both arms around him, squeezing his heart to his throat. Adam never fucking cared who was watching. He stood up on tip-toe to kiss Nigel’s cheek. “Let’s get it to go.”

-


End file.
